


Another substitute for screaming

by mareen



Category: Robin of Sherwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 13:59:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mareen/pseuds/mareen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin of Loxley did not die at the end of Series 2, the others did. Robin and Will Scarlett are the only survivers, they hate each other for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another substitute for screaming

There are two arrows for every one of them.

One shot by Will, the other one by Robin himself. Two burning arrows for each, soaring up high into the sky at the very same moment, the light of burning spikes just for a moment becoming one with the bright light of the evening sun, before they fall again and dive into the depths of the Sherwood sea.

Robin wants to cry but he feels so profoundly tired he can't even gather the energy to shed tears.

All that is left in him he puts into the bending of his bow, the gripping of the arrow, the strength it takes to let go and watch it fly and vanish.

One. For Much.

Two. John.

Three. Nasir.

Four. For Tuck.

His last arrow is for his dead wife. Marian.

When he is done, Robin watches the water that has swallowed their arrows until he is surrounded by so much darkness the sea is nothing but deep blackness right in front of him.

Will has long since walked away.

***

The fire is burning and they are sitting on either side of it, each of them staring into the red and yellow flames. They still sit like that when the sun dawns, without having moved a muscle, without having said a word.

The only sign that Will is still alive, Robin thinks, is his breathing and the grinding of his teeth against each other, showing on the outside of his face. Other than that, Will Scarlet looks frighteningly like a corpse, blank and white, and when he gazes up at Robin with his hateful eyes, Robin turns his face away. For a second he wishes Will would be dead for real.

***

Morning.

It is chilly at first but soon the sun makes everything bright and warm. Robin hates it. He hates the sun, he hates the woods. He just *hates*, from the depth of his heart, everything and everyone. He grabs his stomach and it feels as if there is nothing inside of him, nothing but a black hole that hurts and hurts and hurts.

And he wants to bawl, but he can't get up. He just can't move. He feels numb and choked. He can't breathe.

Will grunts and vanishes without looking at him, and Robin can hear him pissing somewhere and after that his steps are moving away, crushing the forest, as if is doesn't care any more if anyone hears him or not.

Will is gone for hours and Robin hates him even more for being alive. And it feels as if the hate is burning him up from inside.

***

When he saw Marian for the first time, he was on the run from the Sheriff's men. In the castle, running for his life, up the stairs, through the small vaults, opening this door and there she was, in the bed, her plaid pulled up to her chin looking at him rather stubborn.

"I am not afraid of you," her eyes had tried to tell him. "I am not afraid." She had been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. Glowing from the inside, and he'd known right away. He'd just known that he would never get over her, never in his life. That this moment would change everything he was and ever would be. That he would love her forever, that he would give his life for her over and over again.

And finally, Robin of Loxley starts crying. He puts his face into his hands and he is moving his body back and forth, back and forth, and he is crying for his love while the fire in front of him dies away.  
***

 

Deep in the woods, Will Scarlet is standing very still. He can't move. His hands are turned into fists, his back is straining painfully. His teeth are pressed together. He would like to scream but he can't. He can't do anything. Will Scarlet is now truly like a breathing corpse, as if his body is finally catching up to the state of his mind.

***

The deer screams, a wailing, deep-sounding scream, echoing through the woods, when Will kills it with his knife. He thrusts the metal deep into its chest, turns it halfway around, then pulls down and opens up the body from the head down to the legs in a strong, fast movement.

Hot, steaming blood splashes onto his legs. The deer lets go of one last breath and Will remembers Much suddenly, his skinny little body, the red hair, the way he too had let go of life only hours ago. So very like to the deer, same screaming, same wailing, just shaking more and staring up at Robin with this look on his face as if he were sure that Robin would make a miracle happen somehow. As if he could change everything. But in the end, isn't that exactly how Much always saw Robin? Like a god. Like a miracle himself. Robin of the Hood, walking on water.

Stupid dead Much, who had been blinded by a pretty face and nice words, like all of them had been, including Will himself. But he wasn't any more. He wasn't any more.

He stands up.

Blood is still spilling out of the dead body of the animal and Will watches it running over the ground, towards his feet. Thick, red waves of blood. Nightmarish now...suddenly. Blood. Blood means Much and Marian, John and Tuck and Nasir. It means shattered bodies, useless fights, screaming and dying. It means his wife, Scarlet, dead and shattered on the ground in front of their house. Blood means failure. His failure. Robin's failure. Surviving everyone again like every other time. Blood means listening to the wrong person. Following the wrong person. Blood means eternally wondering if it would have made a difference if he had led them instead of Robin. If he had have done something different. If he had taken them on a different path, and, because of that, if he hadn't made the wood crack that moment. Blood shows him how much he hates Robin for leading them there and reminds him of how much more he hates himself.

Will spits on the ground and turns around and leaves the dead deer to the flies.

***

 

Hours go by before Robin manages to pull himself together. The tears are long gone then and he is not sure he will ever be able to cry again. His legs and back are stiff and painful and Robin is grunting from the pain of standing up.

He is not hungry, he actually feels as if he will never eat again in his life, but he can hear Marian talking to him, telling him to eat  
something to keep up his strength.

So he catches a hare and starts a fire and watches the meat roast even though the smell makes him feel sick to his stomach. Will is gone until sometime close to noon, and when he returns, his clothes are full of dark stenches.

He won't say a word when he sits down by the fire and Robin does not try talking to him.

He manages to eat two bites of his meat before he realises he is sitting halfway on one of Marian's plaids. He stumbles up and a few feet away and starts vomiting. Suddenly, Will is a soothing presence behind him, his hand softly running up and down his back. He won't leave, even when Robin is retching, his mouth opening and closing in a helpless gag reflex. When Robin is falling down on the ground, Will is still at his side, holding him in his arms. Robin isn't looking at him, but he knows that Will  
Will be pressing his teeth together, his face a mask of hardness. Will never cries.

They haven't talked for a whole day.

***

 

The second night Will wakes up screaming. He dreamt of killing the deer but this time, after he cut open the stomach, the deer turned into Much, little boy Much, and his insides were crashing down on Will's feet in a steaming stinking bloody mess and Will is screaming and screaming and screaming.

He only manages to stop when he feels Robin's warm body moving besides him, his hand closing around Will's neck. Robin. Robin whom he hates so much now and who hates him, brings their foreheads together and he can feel hot breath on his face, fast, as if Robin has been running. It's too close together, much too close, and he feels too many things he shouldn't feel and he wants to say things but at the same time he knows there are no words for what goes on in his head.

Will clamps his mouth shut. The burning in his eyes stays for a long time, but he presses them together hard and after a while he falls asleep again, him and Robin clinging together helplessly. He doesn't know where he ends and Robin starts and it makes him feel safe, even if just for a moment, even if at the same time he hates Robin still.

In the morning, he wakes up with his hand fisting Robin's leather shirt. He stays like that, feeling Robin's heartbeat against his knuckles, an erratic beating.

Life. Glorious life right there beside him, in the midst of death.

When he forces his eyes off his fist at last, he meets Robin's eyes, staring at him. Very slowly and carefully, he undoes his hand from the shirt. Will turns his eyes into cold pools of black again, full of hate and anger at Robin and at himself, because of their shared weakness, and he stands up and walks away without turning around.

***

Will thinks about leaving. He could make it to one of the larger towns within a few days walk, buy himself a horse and ride wherever he wants.

Maybe he could find work somewhere. He has heard about men working as some kind of private sheriffs, watching over villages. Just like he was doing anyway, but getting paid for it for once. Or he could just vanish. He could leave for France or Spain. Go away, very far from home, just like Nasir did when he came to Britain.

The man managed without speaking English for the longest time and Will wonders if he could do that, too, survive Spain or France without knowing the language. He could leave Robin behind. He could go and forget this whole foolishness. Those dreams Robin was responsible for. He could go and live his own life again.

Then there's a rabbit suddenly. He kills it swiftly and later eats it in silence while Robin just sits by the fire and stares into the woods. The thought of leaving...it's still there, but it goes deep into the back of his mind, while he smells the blood of the dead rabbit and licks meat off his fingers. Robin turns and looks at him out of blank and tired eyes. They don't even have to talk about it. They both just know. There are still things to do here in Sherwood. Will smiles.

***

Robin stops talking to Herne. Will is watching them from not far away, but hidden behind the trees, Herne, talking and Robin, turning away and the sight fills him with a feeling of deep satisfaction that he can't explain to himself.

Maybe because Robin is now alone, just like Will has been for years, no matter how many people he was with. He was always alone. From now on, they will be alone together, just him and Robin. Robin and him and their hate for each other.

Will takes a deep breath and feels good for the first time in days.

***

 

Guy of Gisbourne gives him a hard fight, as if he knows that this time it's for real. This time there is nothing that will save him, if he doesn't do it himself. Gisbourne puts up the fight of his life, until Robin suddenly strikes forward and hits his side. Screaming, Gisbourne falls to the ground. Robin looks back at the watching Will, and Will comes forward, picking up one of his arrows. He stares down at Gisbourne for a second, his face contorted into a nasty grin, then lets himself fall down on his knees. He pats Gisbourne's cheek and when he finally rams the arrow down into Gisbourne's heart, Robin is painfully aware and sickened by his own erection.

***

Robin is bathed in blood. He is sitting at Marian's grave, bloodied from head to toe, and knowing what his wife would say about that makes him feel sick to the stomach. He wonders how far away he is now from the person he was, the Chosen One, honorable in spite of all his faults, and if he can ever be that person again.

***

 

Will is at the river, washing Gisbourne's blood off his body and fascinated watches red streaks come off his skin and follow the flood of the water. And while he watches, he decides not to leave. Instead, maybe they will go and try killing the sheriff.

When he comes back to their camp, Robin is standing at the fire and begs Will with his eyes to let them stop this.

***

 

The first blow is unexpected for both of them. A painful connection of Will's fist with Robin's face. Blood is spilling into Robin's mouth when his teeth split the inside of his cheek. Robin spits and looks at the bubble of saliva and pinkish blood down on the ground for a moment. Then he pushes the backside of his hand over his mouth, grimaces, and lunges at Will. They crash on the earth with grunts when the air is squeezed out of their lungs and just for a second, Robin considers rolling  
away, to stop this madness. But then, instead, they start beating each other bloody. Into their sides, their stomachs, against their faces. When Will bites Robin's hand and draws blood, Robin screams at him and boxes his ear.

Later, neither of them is talking about their common excitement over fighting each other. They don't talk about the agonizing feeling of their erections rubbing against one other. How they both nearly got lost in that feeling. How they slowed down and stopped the fighting and instead, Will was helplessly grinding his crotch down at Robin and how Robin was bucking up, meeting him, before Will suddenly caught himself and kicked Robin in the side instead.

They leave the camp late that night and bring a killing spree to a group of the sheriff's soldiers.

***

 

Robin has beautiful hands, beautiful eyes, a beautiful mouth. Robin moves with a casual grace. Robin is always clean, even when he is not. He is everything Will Scarlet is not. Will looks at Robin's beautiful hands holding a sword, his body moving  
gracefully in the fight. And through all the hate he feels, through all that numbing fog inside his body, the sight still manages to knot his stomach together and spread through his body, make his fingers tingle and his face go hot.

Will stares and he can't stop, even when Robin catches him doing it. In the end, Robin ignores him and fights on and Will still stares while killing another man.

***

 

The first time he manages to eat again without the urge to vomit is three days after the death of his wife. Will brings another rabbit and while he skins it silently, Robin watches his hands go red from the animal's blood.

***

 

They find the Sheriff during one of his hunting sessions, and now that they've got nothing left to lose killing him is surprisingly easy. Robin first hits him with his arrow and Will then sticks his sword right through his chest and twists it around.

When the Sheriff dies between his dead guards he is spitting blood and a gurgling sound comes out of his mouth, and Will, with Robin at his side, is standing over his body, surrounded by dead soldiers and they stare at him and watch until he is truly dead. Will feels dead, too.

***

 

They come back to the camp and Robin feels as if he was never breathing that hard in his life. Not when he was running for miles or when he was in the middle of a fight for his life. But this - walking the woods with Will right behind him - it has him close to bawling, it has him fisting his fingers and opening them again and again. And it's so incredibly excited because he knows that Will behind him is the same.

So when they reach the camp he turns to grimace at Will, to say something, to give him a sign that this is it, but Will lunges at  
him suddenly, tackles him, and brings them to the ground, rolling, rolling, until Will is lying on top of his body. Just once Will pushes his groin into Robin's and draws a groan from Robin that way.

Then fingers are moving in his breeches, cradling him, pulling, fondling. Will doesn't know what he is doing obviously. He has never done this to another man, but he seems to do what he has done to himself. And it is about nothing but touching and feeling as much of Robin as possible anyway, not about finesse. Robin is arching into the touch, craving it and he puts all his hate, all his pain into touching Will, stroking him, pulling and scratching on his body, too. Everything he has left to give, burning through his skin, until he feels as if his whole self is burning up and he is screaming and crying and howling when he is spending himself on Will and he feels Will shuddering and panting when he does the same. He has never felt so much pain and self-hate and pure relief at the same time.

He feels dead inside when it is over.

The last bit of Robin of the Hood is gone.

***

 

He is lying on his back, with his eyes looking at the grey sky. The ground is wet and dirty on his naked skin but he doesn't care enough to pull his breeches back on or move onto one of the plaids. Instead, he concentrates on the feeling of what he believes is Robin's drying semen on his groin and listens to Robin's breathing.

Robin, who is sitting with his clothes back on beside him on the ground, his hands on his pulled-up knees, his face turned forward, staring at the woods. He hasn't looked in Will's direction for a long time. But it doesn't matter, because Will has looked at him, has looked at his face and his body and he had realised that now at last, Robin is just as human and as dirty as he is - for the first time since they met. They are the same now and the realization has Will wanting to laugh in joy and scream in agony at the same time.

He stares at Robin's dirty face, takes it in, every line, every smear of dirt, every drop of blood, and every bruise that he put there himself. And then he tries to remember Scarlet's face. His wife's. And he doesn't remember. It's gone, vanished from his memory. Will opens his mouth to tell Robin, tell him that one day he'll wake up, too, and he won't remember how his wife looked like and how suddenly everything will feel a little brighter and easier because of that. But then he doesn't.

France, he thinks, if the new Sheriff's men don't kill them first.


End file.
